Tag: livestock

One summer while a teenager, Peter visited relatives who owned a small ranch in the hill country. The attraction of the place for him was not the pleasant green hills and sparkling natural springs, but rather his distant cousin Ashley, a buxom country lass about his own age. At a brief meeting several months earlier, the sexually precocious girl had given the inexperienced youth his first lessons in making out, in the back seat of a Chevrolet at a drive in movie. Obsessed by the memory of his adolescent seed spilling in her hands as her fingers slowly teased his virgin genitals, Peter eagerly anticipated the visit.

The day after his arrival, Ashley offered to show him around the ranch, which was devoted to the breeding of cattle. After pointing out the stock pens and some of the prize breeding bulls, she led him into a small, clean building filled with equipment unfamiliar to the city reared teenager. “This here’s our breedin’ barn. This is where we inseminate the cows to get them with calves. Also,” with a sly smile, “where we milk the bulls.”

This last remark confused Peter. “Milk the bulls — I don’t understand.”

“I don’t mean the drinkin’ kind. Where do you think we get all the sperm for the cows?” She giggled, “Remember what I did to you at the drive in?”

Peter blushed in understanding. “Oh.”

Ashley walked over to a stall, beside which a large stainless steel machine stood. “This here’s the extractor. We lead the bull into this stall and strap him down good so he can’t kick up a fuss. Then we stick this hose on his pizzle and let it suck away on him till he creams.” She held up a clear plastic tube attached to the machine.

Peter stared in fascination. “You mean it makes him… ejaculate… just like…”

“Yep, it milks away at their pricks until they shoot a load, just like jacking off. I get a kick out of watchin’ them. They don’t know what’s happening, but they sure know it feels good!”

“Gee, do you do that to all the bulls?”

“Well, all the breedin’ bulls. ‘Course the ones we don’t breed get castrated. We do that in this stall, too. Sometimes Paw lets me work the castrator myself, and he says I’m real good at it.” Peter shuddered at the callous cruelty in her voice.

But his eyes remained fixed on the extractor. Ashley played with the tube in her fingers, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “The extractor don’t work just for bulls, you know.”

“What… what do you mean.”

“I came out here once and caught the hired man with his pants off and his prick in the extractor tube. He liked it too, ’cause he gruntin’ just like a bull. I went and told Maw what he was doin’, and she came out and ran him off with the cattle prod, didn’t even let him pull his pants back on.” Peter’s lips were dry as he tried to imagine the scene. She paused for a moment, and then asked, “What do you think it would feel like, Peter, gettin’ milked like that?”

“I… I have no idea.”

She gave him a devilish grin. “Want to try it?”

He gaped open-mouthed at her suggestion. “You mean… me… in the…?”

“Sure. I’ll work the extractor on you, and you can see how it feels. I know you like gettin’ jerked off.”

“Well… yes, but…”

“Then what’s the difference? C’mon, pull your pants off and let me give you a milkin’.”

If he were alone, Peter would have relished the chance to try the novel stimulation. But he was reluctant to perform to such a humiliating and bizarre sexual act in front of his adored cousin.

“Ashley, I couldn’t! Not with you…”

“Oh, don’t be such a chicken! Will you do it if I take off something first?” With that she quickly unbuttoned her work shirt and spread it open. Peter gaped as her enormous bosom was bared before him. Rather than removing the shirt, she tied the loose ends together beneath her breasts, lifting and framing them for his view.

“There. I showed you my tits, so you pull down your pants. Go on now, do it.” At the sight of her abundant womanhood, Peter felt all resistance ebb from him. Almost in a dream he obeyed, fearing loss of the heavenly vision if he refused. Ashley made him step out of his trousers and underwear until he stood before her naked from the waist down. Aroused by the experience, his penis jutted stiffly in front of him.

She pointed at this manifestation and giggled. “See, you really do want to, don’t you? Come on, get down on all fours in the stall, like a bull.”

Peter did as she asked, even allowing her to fasten the restraints used for the animals. As he knelt on hands and knees, she took two wide leather belts which hung by rope from the ceiling and cinched them tightly around his chest and stomach, forming a sling which supported his weight. She then attached wrist and leg bindings which secured his limbs to the four corners of the stall. He waited nervously, helplessly immobilized, conscious of his naked organs dangling between his parted thighs, completely at Ashley’s mercy.

She gave his penis a flick with one finger and said sarcastically, “You don’t exactly have the equipment of a bull, do you, little cousin? This here tube might be a bit large for you. But that’s OK, ’cause I’ve got a small-size one we use for the cocker spaniels Maw breeds. It ought to be small enough even for your little pizzle.” She chuckled, obviously amused by the humiliating comparison.

She attached one end of the smaller tube to the extractor and then prepared to slip the other end over Peter’s penis. But first she paused, thoughtfully studying his organs. “You ever see an ol’ heifer about to be milked, cousin? That’s just about what you look like, right now. She’s got a big ol’ floppy udder full of milk,” — she hefted his male sacks in her palm — “and a long ol’ teat hanging down between her legs,” — she ran a finger lightly down the sensitive underside of his shaft. “You ought to hear her moo, when her sacks are real full and she’s just begging somebody to squeeze it.” She tickled the little tuck of skin just below the head of his member, driving Peter nearly mad with excitement. “You want me to show you how a country girl milks a cow, Peter, how we squeeze those teats in our hands?”

He cried in agonized frustration, “Please, Ashley! Squeeze me!”

“Well, I don’t know, little cousin, how bad do you need milkin’? I don’t hear you mooing. Tell me how much you need it.”

Peter bit his lip, trying to resist yielding to her humiliating game. But the teasing finger continued to torment his frenulum, and finally he surrendered all dignity, willing to do anything for the promised caress. “…m…moo… Oh Ashley, milk me! Moo, MOO, MOOOO!” Laughing, she grasped his penis in her hand and began squeezing it with a practiced motion. Peter moaned with pleasure and continued to imitate the sounds of a cow for her amusement.

After a few moments, she tired of this game and returned to the main objective. She slipped his penis into the extractor tube and circled an elastic band around the neck of his scrotum, fastening the tube securely in place. Then without any announcement she switched on the machine. Peter felt and indescribable sensation. It seemed as if the tube became a living thing, a pulsing insatiable mouth, a creature thirsty for his very essence, sucking hungrily at his organ even as a calf might nurse urgently at his mother’s teat.

Ashley left the machine to work on his genitals and, going around to the other end of the stall, sat down cross-legged in front of him. Her large bare bosom was almost level with his eyes. He longed for his hands to be free to feel it’s soft massiveness. “Feels good, doesn’t it, Peter?” she grinned.

“Mmm…yes, Ashley. It does…”

She leaned forward, bringing her breast within inches of his face. “I bet getting sucked like that makes you want to suck on somethin’, too. Don’t it, little cousin?” Her breast was only an inch from Peter’s mouth, and the prominently erect nipple jutted more that half the space to his lips.

“Please, Ashley, may I?” he begged. In answer she only giggled, and leaned forward. He drew the rosy bud into his mouth as eagerly as a famished infant and began sucking. Ashley smiled to observe that his nursing lips matched perfectly the rhythm of the extractor on his organ.

How long he could have remained thus before nature ended his rapture in an ecstatic release, none can say. For Peter was suddenly, without warning, doubly deprived as Ashley quickly pulled her breast from his mouth and shut off the extractor. He groaned in disappointment.

“Hold your horses, Peter, we aren’t through yet. I got something else to show you.” She walked over to a wall rack and took down an unfamiliar implement. “Know what this is?” She held up an iron tool about two feet in length, looking like a cross between a pair of fireplace tongs and a bolt cutter. She parted the handles, and pliers-like clamps opened at the end.

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “N…No Ashley, I don’t.” Something about the look of the implement and the wicked glint in her eyes told him he didn’t want to learn.

“This here’s what we use on the other bulls, the ones we don’t want for breedin’. It’s called a bloodless castrator. See, this clamp end goes around their sacks, just above the balls. Then we give it a good PINCH!” She slammed the handles together, and the clamps closed mercilessly around an imaginary victim. Peter shuddered. “It’s not so bad as it looks. It don’t cut their balls off, it just breaks something inside, so in a couple of weeks their balls sort of wither away, and their sacks just hang there loose and empty. And it can’t hurt too much, because sometimes they don’t even know when I do it to them.” She giggled, “Especially if I’m milking them at the same time. I like to do that, so they’ll have one last time to remember what it was like.”

Peter felt an ominous foreboding at the direction of Ashley’s talk. “Uh… Ashley… I really have enjoyed this afternoon, and thanks for showing me the breeding barn, but I think it’s getting near supper time and we really ought to get back to the house now…”

“Naw, there ain’t no hurry, we got plenty of time left to show you how this gizmo works.”

She drew up a short stool behind him and sat down. “We put the bulls in the stall and tie their legs apart, just like you, Peter. That way we can get at their sacks easy.” She reached between his legs and began gently scratching his scrotum with her fingernails. Peter sighed deeply in spite of his growing anxiety. “We put the castrator right here, right around the top of their sacks.” She opened the handles and circled the neck of Peter’s scrotum with the pliers. The cold iron on his tender manhood made him wince.

“Please, Ashley… I don’t like this game very much. Can we go back now?”

She ignored him. Here voice changed, taking on a strange, alarming note of obsession. “You know that hired man I found out here? I didn’t finish tellin’ you about him. You see, I didn’t go tell Maw about him right away. I watched him for a few minutes, first, while he was playin’ in the extractor. Then he turned around and saw me watchin’ him, and the way he looked at me sort of made me mad. He was just starin’ at my tits, and that reminded me of how he was always rubbin’ up against me, trying to get a feel of them. That polecat just kept starin’ at me and jerking off, and then he even said, ‘Hey honey, take ‘em out and let me see ‘em.’

“Well that really made me mad, and I decided to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget. I told him I’d show him my tits if he’d let me milk him just like a bull. Well that fool didn’t even suspect, and no time atall I had him strapped down, just like you. I showed him my tits like I promised, and I set the extractor to milkin’ him. But just when he was starting to let his milk down, I slipped the castrator on him like this and PINCHED!”

She squeezed the handles, very gently, but hard enough to clamp Peter’s helpless glands in a painful grip. “Ow! Oh please, Ashley, don’t! Let me go…”

She eased the pressure and removed the tool altogether, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. But then she reached down and flicked on the extractor. A moment later Peter felt the cruel metal again encircle his fragile masculinity and realized his ordeal was not over.

“It’s time to finish your milkin’, little cousin, and I’m going to make it real special for you.” She continued with a demonic giggle, “I’m gonna fix you, like we do the bulls, like I did that hired man.”

“No, please Ashley, don’t do it…” he begged.

“C’mon, Peter, let me castrate you. I bet you’ll like it. That hired man knew what I was doin’ to him, but he still had the biggest cum I ever saw. I think knowing it was his last made it really special for him. Let me do it to you.”

Although Peter was in a panic, realizing the peril he was in from the half-crazed girl, he tried to sound calm. “No, Ashley, I don’t want it to be my last, maybe sometime later, but I’m not ready just yet.” In spite of his terror, the he could not help thrusting his hips in response to the work of the extractor.

Her voice became intimate, tender, almost loving. “C’mon, Peter, do it for me. You really like me, don’t you?”

“…Yes, Ashley… but…”

“It’d be sort of like goin’ steady, like giving me your class ring, only better. This way, I’d know no matter what, you’d never get some other girl friend and forget me.”

“…but…” Peter was full of confused emotion. Notwithstanding the horror of what she proposed, some darker, mysterious urge began to stir within him. He squirmed about in his bonds, testing the unyielding grip of the tool on his testicles. What would it feel like, the ecstatic release, the moment of crushing force, the lifetime of chaste devotion to his beautiful despoiler. A nameless urge welled within him, reaching back through the millennia to a time when women ruled over men, and it was a coveted privilege for a man to sacrifice his masculinity to the high priestess of the Earth Mother. As the extractor drew him inexorably toward spending, these feelings warred within Peter. He moaned in his agony of confusion.

“C’mon little cousin, let me do it to you, let me castrate you. You really want me to, don’t you?”

As she spoke, Peter surrendered to the inevitability of climax. The pulsing suction urged him over the brink, and he began emptying his glands in gushing surges. The strong contractions of his penis were clearly visible to Ashley even through the plastic tube.

“Now, Peter! While you’re letting go– can I do it?”

In a delirium of sensation he moaned, “Please… Ashley… Please…” but he would never know for sure if he meant “Please don’t”– or “Please do.”

Regardless of the youth’s wishes of the moment, Ashley spared his manhood and laid aside the castrator. He long remained slumped in the restraining straps, speechless with the intensity of the experience, while Ashley gently cradled his sacks in her soft palm and patted his naked backside comfortingly. At last when he was rested, she released him and helped him to his feet.

“Did you really think I was goin’ to fix you, Peter? You sure creamed like you thought it was goin’ to be your last. C’mon, now. Didn’t that make it more exciting?”

Peter had to admit that it did. And though in the following weeks Ashley would thrill him with countless masturbatory treats– in the breeding barn with the extractor, in the hay loft with her knowing fingers, even once in the divine valley between her breasts– none would quite equal the intensity of that first experience.

As they walked back to the ranch house that evening, Peter could not help asking her, “Ashley, that time with the hired man. Was that just a story, or did you really…?”

She looked at him and smiled mysteriously for a moment. Then she said, “Hey! I think I hear Maw’s dinner bell. Race you back!”

Summary: A couple enticing emails by the notorious KathleenK, the castration queen.

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I have played many scenarios, I find I like longer and longer scenes (like real life?). I like the preparation for castration.

I like to draw it out as long as possible; it can be a beautiful torment. Even start days before hand and mark your castration day on the calendar. Draw your attention to it every day. You’re one day closer to being my eunuch. Like if I was doing your scene I would want to be the one that shaved your scrotum. All the while I would talk about castration, how much I like it, the different ways I might do it, maybe tracing lines on your scrotum where I might cut you, maybe use a Magic Marker to mark the place where I will cut, things like that.

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My younger sister and I were raised on a ranch by my older sister. She taught us how to castrate. Each late spring/early summer we would have to round up all the males on the place and castrate them (except for a few used for breeding). We raised mostly cattle, with some horses, pigs, sheep, etc. Most of the castrations I did were on year old animals but each year there would be a few adult bulls and stallions that I would castrate because they did not breed well or were no longer used. Of course, all adult males on the ranch that are not good for breeding are castrated as soon as possible. This makes them gentle and easier to handle, much less dangerous; it is a rather obvious transformation they go through. This is one of the things that fascinates me about castration, and believe me it works on men to if they do not load up on replacement hormone therapy. No one would ever tolerate stallions except for breeding, never for riding especially around children (and us defenseless females!). I first started castrating when I was going through puberty. That is when I got hooked on castration, as is the case with most castration addicts. There was no stigma attached to it. It was simply work that had to be done. Vets were very expensive and hard to get; no one hired them to do simple castrations. I found it very exciting at the time and still do. We used to giggle about it and fantasize about cutting our boy friends, teachers, assholes, etc.

The first time my husband met me I was castrating an adult bull, I was wearing shorts and a halter, my future husband got an enormous erection (and I think he ejaculated in his pants but he would never admit it). I have not done any recently. Love it though, you should experience it sometime if you have not already.

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You asked how we got bulls to stand still for castration. Well, this was certainly not what you would call consensual castration. When we castrated adult bulls we used a special pen that was designed especially for handling cattle. The whole process of castrating an adult bull was very thrilling for me. Bulls are very dangerous and have killed people. They weigh 1500 – 3000 pounds and are all muscle and nervous energy. They usually do not like for people to herd them about and pen them up in tight places. They seem to sense they are in danger and do not like it, snorting and panting and bellowing and pawing the ground with their hoofs. They try to ram the corral to get out, its like a small car hitting the corral, except no metal to metal of course, but it shakes everything violently. The pen was very strong, made out of welded pipe. It was a pen that narrowed down to a funnel at one end. At that end it became a narrow passageway that only one bull could pass at a time, the width could be adjusted easily and quickly. At the very end was a gate, it could be closed (and opened to let the new steer out), it had and opening that the bull would always poke his head through trying to get out. This opening was hinged so that it could be opened wide, once the bull poked his head through a lever was pulled that squeezed the opening shut tightly on the bull’s neck. Now the bull can not go forward or backward. Then the passageway is squeezed tight against the sides of the bull. Now the bull can not go forward or backward or to the left or to the right. Then another pipe gate is slid across the passageway just behind the bull. This gate prevented the bull from kicking — the Castratrix. I could now approach the bull safely from the rear with my little black bag (A purse you think? Full of little dainty girl things? Lipstick and perfume? NO! NO! NO!). The bull could hardly move, but 2000 pounds of shear muscle and energy could rattle the cage violently. It was frightening to stand inches from such power. Now the fun can begin. After I had laid out my little black bag on a little shelf to the side. I would reach between the bulls hind legs and take his scrotum in my hand and gently stroke it, then an amazing thing would always happen, this thrashing monster would always calm down!!! I had his attention! Well you asked how we got them to stand still for castration, that’s it. I will not waste your time or bore you with the rest!

Summary: A story of future femdom harvesters.

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Male sperm was at an all-time market high of $800 a pint as sweet, young, teenage Betsy watched her mother’s four big male bull cows from behind grunting into their milking tubes! Their big heavy dangling milk sacs jiggling and churning in rhythm to the pulsating vibration of the extractor collars around their scrotal necks, held in place with thick leather straps around their hips which held the milking tubes up tight against their big discharging male teats.

Finally, their grunts subsided signaling to Betsy they were finished for now. Until later in the afternoon when she would again hook them up for their final deposit of the day! Pushing herself off the fence rail she was leaning against, she stepped forward and started yanking the Velcro straps off their backs and from around their testicles saying, “OK guys, you know the routine! Clean your tubes, your udders and teats, then take your feeding liquids. I want to see a bigger volume out of all of you this afternoon! Don’t disappoint me, boys!”

It never failed to impress her how weak they were after their milking! They were all over 200 pounds of lean male muscle. But their legs would be shaking as they would slowly rise to standing. It was comical watching them spreading their legs to accommodate their big heavy hanging male milk sacs which dangled just above their knees. Her mom called them, “Male udders!” Which she found udderly comical. The lower pendulous girth was of incredible size! As big as two soccer balls with a hundred times the weight, which pulled down on their scrotums stretching the necks thin at the top. They were handicapped by them, making them easily managed by me or any other girl, or woman, and these ones wouldn’t know the gelding blade for a long time to come, as long as they kept producing milk.

*** The milk ***

Male milk was essential as a base ingredients in locking organic and genetic compounds together like a type of glue. Allowing them to interact and stay stable for years! The latest discovery was called. Helen! Helen restored youth, beauty, and strength to a female within a matter of days. A 50-year-old woman looked and felt 20 again. Only male sperm could achieve this. It was the key in the process, because it was genetically compatible with a female’s growth genes!

Five years ago it was discovered. Before that, I remember mom always gelding our males. Mom would cut their balls off and throw them into the pig pen for the pigs to eat, saying, “At least they’re good for something!” I watched her doing it and watched their cocks get big and hard when she brought the gelding blade across the top of their sacs, castrating them! Every time their male milk would squirt out at the exact time their testicles came off! And she’d say, “See Betsy! This why we’ve got to geld them. If we didn’t, they’d be squirting this filthy stuff all over the place! All the time!”

Like I said, that was five years ago! Now their filthy sperm is worth gold and mom wants as much as can be milked out of them! A whole industry started around developing males into producing large quantities of sperm. But it wasn’t until the XL350 implant was introduced that large volumes of male sperm milk was possible. The implant was surgically implanted into a male’s scrotum, containing mega- doses of genetically altered male hormones, with the result of his testicles growing to enormous proportion! Within days his testicles would grow bigger and bigger, with some dying from the rupturing of their sac! It would take months for their cock-teats to get bigger but slowly they would equal their hanging brothers in size!

Once they were done, they were nothing more than walking male cows. Cow-bulls with big hanging udders and one giant teat!

Chapter 2: Back at the house.

“Betsy! How are our boys doing?”

“Great mom! Remember the one with the bigger balls! Bigger then the rest? Well he’s putting out almost two full quarts a day now!”

Her mother laughed. “Well he’s earning his keep isn’t he!”

On the kitchen table there was a box marked, Betsy. Her big blue eyes grew bright! “Mom, mom! What’s this? What’s in this box? It’s got my name on it!”

“Well you better open it, if it’s got you’re name on it, then!”

Smiling, watching her young teenage daughter tearing open the box, then her mouth dropping open in surprise!

Inside was a black leather waist cinch with high-heel knee-high black leather boots and a long handled silver rod with a hooked end! She gaped at it, then looked back at her mother. Her mother laughed. “It’s to hook around the necks of their scrotums! To move them were you want them! You’re going to be taking my place this year at the county fair honey! You’re going to be the bull mistress this year! You’ve earned it!”

“Oh god, mom! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m going to win that blue ribbon for you! You just watch!”

“Well, Betsy, don’t get too confident with yourself. There’s some pretty stiff competition! Plus you’ll be hand milking him which is more of an art then a science, so you better start practicing on your best one, the one you’re going to enter into the competition. I’ll show you a few tricks in getting the best yield out of a cow-bull. With a little luck and a big bloated sac on him you might just win!”

Betsy knew exactly who she was going to enter. The one the others called Bill.

She never got familiar or personal with any of them, because it was beneath a female to recognize a male other than to direct or order him to do something. Being a smart girl, she knew she’d have to lower those standards and have a personal relationship with him, which would be repulsive to her. She hated the smell of those big teats and their big hanging scrotums, especially when they were grunting into their milking tubes. It was an especially offensive odor, she would have to do something to mask that offensive smell.

Around three o’clock, they were gathering by the milking barn as usual with stiff cocks, eager for their release. Their big male udders hanging heavy with the weight of built up sperm.

Betsy came from the house dressed in her new outfit! Her small bare breast stood firm with excited erect nipples. The leather waist cinch tight around her waist causing her girlish hips to flair out like a full grown woman’s hips. The knee-high spiked boots framed her slim but muscular thighs in turn framing her bare shaven pussy with hanging lips like her mother’s pussy!

Immediately, she could see their balls involuntarily try to pull up! As she got closer one started discharging sperm and inwardly she smiled, feeling an incredible amount of female power at knowing just the sight of her caused him to ejaculate! Watching as his legs started trembling, weak, with long ropes of milk shooting out his big teat, he went down on his knees, then on all fours with his male milk still draining out under him!

As the others watched Betsy went up behind him, hooking her silver cane rod around his sac, pulling the big loose dangling appendage back, forcing them up onto his back, then unhooking it swiftly and smacking one testicle with it! He went down with a loud grunt into his own mess!

Looking at the others, especially Bill, she said, “All right, the rest of you! Get in there and take your places, you’re all going to have to make up his amount today!” Secretly she smiled to herself, watching her big bull-cows move in with their big hanging male udders twisting and flopping back and forth between their legs. Once inside they took their spots, sliding the milking tubes over their teats, waiting for Betsy to fasten their straps.

She went up behind Bill and gently tapped his big hanging scrotum with her cane, causing the big heavy milk filled sac to swing obscenely! Grunting, he looked over his shoulder to see her smiling down at him. Then she knelt down beside him, placing her small hand under his hanging sac, lifting and weighing one ball at a time, saying, “I know your name. It’s Bill, isn’t it? You’re the best milker here. You always put out the most milk, you know! I like that, Bill. You’ve got the biggest heaviest male udder of all of them. Plus you’ve got the biggest teat too. That makes you special. You are one, big, prize-winning male cow! I’m going to enter you in this year’s county fair and you’re going to be wearing a big blue ribbon right around your big male udder! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Chapter 3: Getting him into shape

Keeping him in the house now, Betsy and her mother triple his feeding proteins plus implanted eight times the recommended XL350’s into his scrotum, making his big male udder absolutely obscene. His balls were now as big as basketballs with his cock bigger and longer than Betsy’s leg. Constantly being hand milked by Betsy, or her mother, he was putting out over a gallon of sperm per-day!

One-day, during his milking he grabbed his chest, moaning in pain! Alarmed, Betsy called her mother! “Mom, mom! He’s having trouble breathing and his cock went soft when I was milking him! Look!”

He was on his side with his limp, trunk-like cock laying out in front of him with his big scrotum bag lying awkwardly behind on the other side between his legs. White looking and sweating, Betsy’s mother knew exactly what was happening! They were milking him to death!

“Betsy honey, we’ve got to ease up on him, we’re killing him! Especially the way you’ve been practicing on him lately, it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long. Now lift up his leg. I’ll pull his udder up over in front of him and we’ll just let him rest there! No more milking him until the competition. Let him regain his strength!”

She didn’t tell her daughter, but secretly she knew one more milking would probably kill him! “God, having a bull-cow putting out a gallon of milk a day was unheard of. If he lasted through the competition she would definitely win!”

As the days passed, he slowly recovered. Betsy’s mother had removed the extra XL350’s from his scrotum but it would take months before their effect would diminish. Plus it was illegal by competition rules to use more than two XL350’s on a cow’s udder. She was almost jealous of her daughter as she removed them.

He stood in front of Betsy with his legs wide apart. She moved her hands up and down the big smooth, hanging scrotum, weighing the two big balls inside, marveling at the softness and texture of the entire bag! She ordered him to hold his big hanging teat up out of the way. Swollen hard but so big with its heavy weight it could no longer support itself in an outward standing position, and she marveled at that too. “God what a specimen of a bull-cow!”

Chapter 4: The big day

It was hot for late September, unusually hot which made it great for the parade of the male cows into the big tent. Betsy walked behind her cow tapping his big udder with her cane, signaling him left or right, just as the others did with their male cows. Most of the other females were much older then her, but she could see envy in their eyes, watching her cow walk wide-legged with its pendulously heavy milk-laden udder swinging back and forth, hearing words like, “That’s not possible!” or, “Oh my god, she’s too young to be a bull mistress!”

Once inside the tent, they lined up their cows to have their udders weighed.

When Betsy’s turn came, she expertly hooked her rod around her cow’s scrotum neck, hoisting the big things up onto the scale with both hands. The judges and women standing around watching shrieked in disbelief as her big male’s udder tipped the scales at over 43 pounds! There had to have been something wrong with the mechanism! No male’s milk sac had ever weighed that much! One of the judges, a tall, slim, muscular blond, came from around the back of the scale table, placed a hand on the center of his chest pushing him back.

His big sac slid off the scale, swinging back between his legs, pulling him off balance with the weight. He leaned back and then forward, adjusting the weight under himself to the center of gravity. Betsy was pleased at how well he had handled himself in front of everyone. He wasn’t so stupid after all, she thought. Looking over to her mother, she smiled at her and her mother gave her a knowing smile back! She felt her a little nipples push out further and for the first time she felt dampness on her little pussy. After double checking the scale, the same woman motioned to Betsy to place his sac back onto the scale.

Betsy tapped his scrotum from behind signaling him to move forward, then, as before, she hoisted it up with the same result of 43 pounds!

After that, there was an hours break before the competition, where all were welcome to handle or examine the entries. The women were all over Betsy’s bull-cow especially the city women. Flash cameras flashed constantly as one woman after another took turns posing beside him! Pulling his big teat up out of the way while kneeling next to his big udder and smiling for the camera! Plus many questions were directed at her! “How did you get him so big? How much milk can you pump out of him? You’re so young!” On and on it went until Betsy’s mother stepped in saying, “That’s enough, ladies! My daughter has to concentrate on the competition so find yourselves a good seat and all your questions will be answered when she straps the blue ribbon around her male’s sac!”

Betsy was nervous, really nervous! She hadn’t expected this much commotion over something that she took for granted. Milking males of their sperm was an every day event for her so she never really thought about it much. But now, she realized she was something of a superstar! Being a bull mistress was evidently the envy of every female and she looked upon her mother with new eyes!

A loud buzzer sounded. Then a female voice.

“All Bull Mistresses! All Bull Mistresses with their cows, report to the milking tables!”

This was it, showtime! Her mother grabbed a bucket of warm soapy water and quickly started washing down her cow’s big hanging udder, motioning to her daughter to lift its fat heavy dangling teat out of the way. The milk-laden sac swung back and forth as she washed it, then, after quickly drying the bag, she stood up and took the big shaft from Betsy’s hand and did the same to it!

Betsy grabbed a spray can of cosmetic powder, applying it to his entire body, paying special attention to his teat and udder!

Finishing up, her mother handed Betsy her cane, kissed her on the forehead and said, “He’s all yours baby! Make me proud sweetheart!”

Betsy gave his udder a hard smack with the cane making him jump forward. It was too hard and it hurt him! The sudden move caused his heavy weighted scrotum to jerk, making him grunt in pain. Betsy realized what she did and told herself to calm down, she was too excited. She had to calm down saying, “Sorry Bill!” This was one of the few times he had heard a kind word from her. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled with a little tear in his eyes and silently nodded his head. He belonged to her, she was his mistress. The bond that had developed between both was all encompassing in his mind and he was determined to make her proud of him by putting out more milk than he had ever done before!

This time, she gently tapped his sac, moving him forward.

There was a lot of talking and laughter between the women and young girls in the audience as everyone waited. Some of the males were already up on the tables on all fours with their thighs wide apart and with their big udders hanging underneath. Some udders almost touched the table top, but all were impressive specimens!

Betsy directed her cow to her numbered table, tapping the underside of his sac. He slowly mounted the table. There was a sudden audible silence in the audience. The full weight of his udder rested on the table with one ball sliding off to the side and pulling the entire sac off with it, causing a gleeful roar of laughter from the women! Three of the judges came over and inspected the situation, the same blond judge who couldn’t believe the weight at the weighing table ordered someone to get the biggest knee blocks they had. After placing four four-inch blocks under each knee, a total of 16 inches, finally, his udder hung free with half an inch to spare!

“OK, ladies, place your milk pails under your cows! You’ll have fifteen minutes of milking time starting when you hear the buzzer! Good luck ladies!”

BZZZZZZZZZZ

Betsy looked around at the other women. They were going at it right away, most were forcing their hands into their cow’s rectums to squeeze their prostates and then grabbing their teats with their other hand and jerking and pumping quickly! She heard the first grunt and splash of sperm next to her! Surprised she quickly grabbed Bill’s big teat, putting it into the stainless-steel pail, shoved her hand into his rectum, forearm deep, feeling for his prostate, when he suddenly grunted and discharged a huge long stream of milk into the bucket and then another until they were both in rhythm! The noise in the bucket subsided as his teat was submerged in his own milk but slowly its level was rising. His constant grunting affirmed to Betsy that he was still producing! After about 10 minutes most of the loud grunting around her had subsided to low weak moans! But Bill was still making deep heavy grunts as his milk started overflowing the pail!

Suddenly, Bills grunts turned to heavy painful moans! She could feel the tightness around her wrist in his rectum slacken. She immediately pulled her arm from his hole, hoping he wouldn’t die before the buzzer sounded! She was clearly the winner by a long shot, his sperm was running off the table from the over flowed bucket it was clear to everyone who had won the blue ribbon.

The blond judge was beside her now and realized that she had milked him close to death! She had seen it before and the only thing to do to save its life was to castrate him immediately! She held a gelding blade in her hand, showing it to Betsy, saying, “Should I? It is up to you!”

Betsy frantically looked over to her mother! The expression on her face told Betsy it was her decision.